Red
by TheDarkWorldGiant
Summary: He saw the red on his legs. Red like the blood he had spilled. Red like the fire he was born from. Red like the heat inside him-/events after Avengers
1. Chapter 1

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

**Red**

1: The Prison—

He watched the All-Father, his _once_ father, strike the ground. He watched it split and collapse to form a dark crevasse. It walls reached far into the earth, sharp rock teeth hung from the ceilings and jutted from the floors. Steam rose from the newly opened cave.

The heat was overwhelming.

He was taken back to Asgard after the war on Earth, the pathetic, unruly planet that spun with no plan or ruler. It angered Loki that such a petty race such as the humans could have beaten him. It enraged him so that his heart weighed heavy and his mind turned to a blackened riot. A man in a metal suit and a soldier who slept in ice. A silent archer and a mulish bitch. A green monster and—

Loki felt the chains on his wrists tighten. He looked from his prison to his captor. His dear, beloved brother—the God of Thunder, the favored son, the blessed one—stared back at him. His face was scared from the battle they had endured. His hair was still matted and he still smelled of sweat and exhaustion.

His eyes were the same, though. Blue and saddened. So sentimental, so caring, so full of love, Loki thought. But who needs love in a world where love is useless. Love is the epitome of all hell and deceit.

Thor opened his mouth to speak some trifle words, but Loki turned his gaze back to the crevasse. He heard the man behind him sigh, feeling his breath on his neck, and felt the grip on his chains loosen slightly.

He looked up then. Above him stood the queen Frigga, tall and proud. She had aged since he had last seen her. Her hair was splotched with white and her eyes were worn and wrinkled. She caught his eyes and what seemed like disgust crawled across her eyes before she looked away. He saw the lovely Sif and the Warriors, huddle together as always. They all stared down at him with dark glares. He turned to the All-Father. Even from afar, Loki could see the disappointment on the old man's face. It made his lips curl.

"Loki, God of Mischief, God of Evil, Chaos, and Fire," Odin roared. From the streets, the people of Asgard stared at their king, stared at Loki. He refused to acknowledge them for they were nothing more than scum to him now. "For your actions," Odin continued, "you are here banished to the depths of Asgard. There, you will lay bound—and there you will burn."

The crowd watching cheered and clapped. They yelled out curses and asked for "the traitor's" head. Loki growled slightly and showed his teeth. He felt like a snake, coiled in a closed basket.

There was one voice that did not raise, but Loki wished, just once that it did.

He felt Thor's forehead bump against the back of his head. "Brother, please. Beg for forgiveness. Ask for this punishment to be cast away. Please, brother. I ask of you this much," he said silently into his hair.

"Off me…" Loki hissed and jerked forward, leaving Thor to hang his head.

Odin hit his staff against the ground and the crowds went silent. He stared down at Loki, unflinching when he glared back darkly. "From here on, you will be recognized as a criminal and an enemy to the kingdom of Asgard." Odin nodded his head and Loki was pushed forward. He and Thor descended down into the cave, Loki never taking his eyes off his _father_.

The light seemed to be blown out as they traveled further into the ground. Loki could feel his feet slip on the slanted rock, but the hand on his back held him up. He could hear his breath, loud and uneven, and he could hear Thor's. And for a moment, he thought he could hear their heart beats, thumping at the same time.

They stopped when they reached the bottom of the slope. Loki looked from side to side; stalactites hung from the high tops of the cave and jagged mounds of black rock sat all around. It was like he had been swallowed whole by some wild beast.

His feet stumbled forward again, sliding on the slick rock. He planted his feet, yet only tripped more. He fell forward onto a large rock, bashing his chin on the hard surface. He groaned.

He felt Thor's hands grab his shoulders and flip him around so he lay on his back. Loki stared up into the others face, his eyes burning. Thor returned his gaze. Loki huffed then gritted his teeth as Thor twisted his arms up over his head.

Loki watched as Thor placed the chains on the rock and with one mighty blow of his fist, combined metal and stone. Loki stared up at his restraints and jerked his arms wildly. He was trussed to this rock, to this cave, and forever he will be a part of the dark cell. He jumped as he felt his robes slide off his shoulders. He growled and kicked and spat while Thor stripped him down.

He was soon bare. Heat from the split rocks drifted over his skin like a wandering hand. He struggled to cover himself, felling exposed and small.

Loki bit back a snarl when a calloused hand was placed on his chest. Thor stared down at him with glazed eyes, rubbing his hand back and forth against Loki's thin breast. He pulled away and raised his hands to his cloak, ripping the fabric off his back.

Loki felt the cool silk drape across his legs, covering him. He looked down at the red that waved over his legs and thighs. He breathed and looked at Thor, again thinking he heard their heats beat as one. He saw Thor hesitate, his hands itching at his sides, but he did no more than pick up the fallen garbs from the floor and leave.

A large door slid in front of the entrance of the cave with a piercing screech. And then there was only darkness.

Loki's eyes searched for light, their pupils widening. The only sun came from the square opening in the rocked wall across the room. Such dim light. He felt his chest fill with something hot as he tried to break free with no prevail. He jerked his legs about and yanked his hands, pulling at the chains. His forehead broke out in sweat as the heat under his skin rose.

He saw the red on his legs. Red like the blood he had spilled. Red like the fire he was born from. Red like the heat inside him. Red hot—

Some dreadful force raised his head and he stared at the ceiling. He could feel something there, in the dark. Some sort of pain, spine tingling pain. His eyes adjusted and he saw it then, the new terror in his life.

One of the crooked rocks that hung from the cave's roof glowered down at Loki, its deathly point only feet away from his bare skin. Fear shook his entire body as the weak light from outside danced around the spike. Green acid slid down the rock surface, one line joining another to form small dangling drops at the tip.

They hovered but never fell, the green poison tediously swirling in its small teardrop vessel. Loki's body tightened as he waited for the burn to come. The burn of the green poison that would eat its way into him.

A green death for a green blooded man, Loki thought.

The acid finally fell, dropping through the air and landing on the god's pale chest. It dug through his skin into his body and mixed with the heat inside him. He blew apart as fire clawed out of his mouth. His soul caved in and the burn took him hostage.

He screamed as he fell back into darkness.

* * *

Just watched Avengers~ went home and watche Thor on Netflix. (Absoluetly in love with Tom Hiddleston's preformance. Made me wanna watch Wallander again :O anyway...) This is about what happens to poor sweet Loki after Avengers. Should I go on? Reviews are wunderbar!


	2. The Childhood

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

2: The Childhood—

When he was young, when he did not know the pains of the world, he would dream of his future throne. A throne that was his and only his. A seat that sat leveled with his brothers—a spot close to his father.

I will be a king like my father, and my brothers will be by my side, he'd say:

"I will be king."

He would sit in the hall of paintings, a marbled wall where portraits of the kings hung. He'd reach out and touch the wall, fingers feeling the surface where his portrait would one day hang. It made him happy, knowing what his future held for him. It made him forget that he was different from the rest.

Loki saw it, that unspoken fact that his blood ran a different color than the royal family. That his hair fell black, that his eyes gleamed green, face pale, bones small. That magic found him and ran with power under his skin. He saw the looks, and heard the whispers that echoed so loudly from the people on the streets, in the halls.

"Why do the mirrors show me strange? Why do I look apart from my brothers?" he'd asked his au pair one day.

She'd looked at him, leaned down and kissed him, and took his hand. "Let's not talk of things such as this." Her words seared Loki's heart. He was being kept in the dark, the dark where the unwanted things were kept.

And that is when his soul started turning black.

Anger froze his heart. Rage and pain and jealousy boiled his blood. He grew to hate his brothers for the love they received, his mother for the secrets she kept from him, his father for ruling over him. By the time he was a man, his soul gleamed blacker than the shadows he stood in.

And ounce, as Loki sat under his ancestors' eyes, hand pressed to the wall that he knew would never bare his reign in paint, he thought of the throne. A throne which towered over all others. A throne fit for a king, a rightful king.

A king history would never forget.

I will be king—and then they will be in the dark.

* * *

So I'm continuing _Red_. Thank you everyone who told me to keep going(I love you all very much!) Sorry if this chapter is a little short :(


	3. The Red Queen

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

3: The Red Queen—

He coughed roughly, feeling the blood from his cut throat slide up over his tongue. He had screamed for days on end, each drop of acid causing his cries to shake the very walls that held him. After a time he stopped the screams. The burn didn't hurt him as much then. The pain was so familiar by then that it didn't shake him any longer. He would watch the green fall into the carved out section of his chest with dull, lifeless eyes.

He didn't need to scream. Screaming was pointless.

There was a spell, some sort of magic that surrounded the cave that made Loki's stomach tight. He had gone without food or water for longer than any man or god could have gone. He figure Odin would do something like this, making it so his body quit working but his soul lived on to be kept in this prison—making it so his skin formed back where the poison hit so it may be burned again. The daft old fool, he thought. I don't need food. I don't need the sun, or the clean air. I can endure any pain so I don't need relief. Oh, you blasted fool.

Loki licked his cracked lips with his dry tongue. He followed one of the drops down from its point to his red and rotten skin. It landed and sunk, carving him a bit more. Loki just stared at the etched flesh. He blinked and blinked, finding it hard to kept his dark eyes open. He stared down at the bloodstained cloth that covered him. So red, he thought.

A sound made his eyes spark. He watched the door of his cell open and the queen Frigga walk through.

She wore white, shining white. Guards walked in with her, both holding a hand close to her shoulders. She batted them away. They bowed and left, shutting the door behind them.

Frigga moved without a word to his side. The glow around her was blinding. She stopped, leaving a wide length between the two.

Is your feet to sacred to stand in the blood of your own son, Loki thought. You spoiled bitch.

Frigga stared at him, looked down at him. Her neck held cold sweat from the heat of the cave and she dabbed at her skin with the backs of her fingers. "Loki."

His name sounded cold in his ears. "My queen."

Frigga frowned deeply. "Your mother. Not a queen, not to you."

Loki looked away at this. You're not my mother, he thought. You never were. "What have you to say to me?" he muttered.

He watched Frigga swallow, her aged skin tightening under her chin. "I wanted to see my boy." Her voice came out shaky.

Loki twisted his wrists in the hold of his chains. He saw the fear in the queen's eyes, the distain she held for him. "I'm not your boy."

Frigga's chest rose and fell as she studied him. "Your brother wants to see you, but he says you think too ill of him." She stopped and took and step back as a drop of blood rolled off his split chest and onto the floor.

He sighed at the mention of his brother, the air he took in burning his dried nose. "I think ill of all of you," Loki said, his teeth clenched.

The queen's chin trembled as she wiped quickly at her sagging eyes. She whispered, "When did this happen? All of this—"

Loki stayed still, head throbbing, mind numb. Blood rose to the top of his throat as another drop landed in the valley of his chest. It spread over his tongue and covered the backs of his teeth. He swallowed. "When you lied to me, when you all lied to me."

Frigga sniffed and shook her head. "We never."

"And there another lie," Loki's voice came out cold. "My entire life was lived in the shadows you held me in. I always wished to be a part of the family, to truly be your son, and a brother to the others—but every time I tried, I was pushed away."

"You are a part of this family, Loki!" Frigga cried shaking her hands at him.

"Then why do you stand away, as I am burned and scared? Why don't you set me free, set your _son_ free?" he hissed.

He watched Frigga sob into her hands as she looked away from him. "I know why you keep me chained—you fear me. You've seen what's inside of me, you've seen that evil. It kills you, doesn't it, that you raised it for so long."

"No!" Frigga yelled and cried harder.

"Yes!" Loki roared, the cave shaking under his voice. "You raised a monster! The blood on my hands are also on yours and you will never clean it off. You can deny all you want and you can bury this little secret, but the fact that you made _me_ will stay with you till you're dead in the ground, you pitiable bitch!"

Loki leaned his head back and spat, blood spraying from his pale lips.

Blood covered Frigga's gown and face, white slowly turning red. She placed a hand up to her cheek and wiped at the hot drops on her skin. A retched scream escaped her as she tried to pat the stains off her clothes. She turned away and fled. She scaled the slope and wrenched the door open, a dotted trail of blood following her.

Loki watched as she pushed past the guards and disappeared, far away from the prison, from him, leaving him alone.

* * *

Frigga comes for a visit.


	4. The Light and the Thread

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

4: The Light and the Thread—

He felt his skin indent then split as the needle pushed through his bottom lip. He screamed, not from pain, no, but from inevitable silence that he would soon be trapped in. Guards held him down as he thrashed while another pulled the needle up, his shoulder moved to the side so the falling poison could not touch him.

Frigga told on him. She squealed of how the monster in the pit stained her beauty. And for her cries, Odin ordered a punishment—another painful dose to his already ruined life. "Tie his lips," he said. "Cease his noises." And they came with needle and thread and sewed him up.

Coarse string slid through Loki's lip once more, tugging his soft skin to the side. His mouth was crushed together, blood and spit dripping down his chin, down his neck. He still screamed, though, rattling his raw throat with his inaudible cries.

The guard tied a small knot in the sting then stepped back, studying his work. "That'll keep that sliver tongue at bay."

Loki kicked his legs forward at the other men, burning hatred pumping under his skin. His mouth tried to form words, threats, curses, yet the string stayed tight.

"Never thought I'd see the day when I finally shut up," another guard said. He swung his leg back and kicked Loki's calf.

Loki jerked and bit back a yell.

The guards laughed and another dealt a blow to Loki's thigh. Their laughter bounced off the walls and dug into his head, rattling his brain, making him crazed. A high whining sound came from his throat as a knot rose in his chest. This bottled up anger, he thought. Yes, this will kill me—

The laughing stopped when footsteps clicked in the air. The guards turned then stood straighter. Loki rolled his head, trying to see which god had come to grace him with their presence.

"Baldr," one guard said, bowing along with the others.

Loki clenched his teeth at the name. Baldr, the light of Asgard; the third born, the son of suns, the beloved of all—the untouchable. He remembered, when he was still a son of Odin, Baldr was the one who tortured him. Teased him endlessly. Beat him with his fists then said it was merely a game, a game where he laughed and Loki bled.

And here he was, bleeding and laughed upon, once again.

"You all may leave now," Baldr's voice drifted through the cave like a fresh breeze. The guards nodded and walked away, finally letting Loki see the other. He stood that in gold, blonde hair bright, skin flawless—just as he was all those years ago.

Baldr stayed still till the guards were gone and then spoke. "Hello, Gypsy."

Loki shifted under his stiff and dirtied sheet, causing it to slide halfway off his legs. He fixed a glare on the other as he came to a crouch in front of him. He watched as Baldr looked him over, his blue eyes picking at all the scars that laced his body. "And so here we are."

Loki wiped his tongue across the stitching on his lips, tasting the mixer of blood and thread. He growled again.

Baldr smiled and raised a hand. Loki jerked away. "Now, now," he whispered. He pulled the red sheet up higher on Loki's legs, covering him more.

He stared at him then. Loki lifted his top lip as far as it could go in a slight sneer, though the blood that spilled out of the wounds covered it.

"The old man assigned me to watch you," Baldr sighed, rocking back on his haunches and scratching his brow. "Though, a man trapped in a rock cave really doesn't need a nanny." He laughed. Loki's fist shook in his chains. That laugh was grating, killer. Again his tongue pushed at the thread, desperate to unchain his teeth and bite at the face that hovered to close to him.

Baldr looked up as more acid rain fell and sunk into Loki's chest. His face grew dark. "You deserve this, Gypsy. You always have. Even when you were a child."

Loki breathed heavily through his nose and glared harder.

Baldr stared back, just as dark. "I always knew you were different. They said you were my brother—hah," Baldr spat at the ground and rocked forward, the tip of his nose brushing slightly against Loki's. "I knew what you were, so did the rest of 'em. Týr, Vidar, even Hodur knew. He didn't need eyes to tell you weren't kin.

More blood fell from Loki's burning lips as Baldr reached up and plucked at the tight string. Loki gave a muffled yell and kicked around.

Baldr stood and wiped his hand on the back on his tunic. "Don't forget, Gypsy. Don't forget that you deserve this prison." At this he smirked and turned, walking out of the cave and slamming the door shut.

Loki's chest rose and fell as the pain faded back to numbness. He rolled his neck, trying to cease the itch that his sweat caused. Breath steadying, he shut his eyes, seeing the red veins in the lids of his eyes. He shuttered, jaw tight, and searched for sleep.

* * *

So here's chapter 4. Thanks for reading and review!

**A few cool facts that helped me with this chapter-**

Týr, Vidar, and Hodur are the main "other" brothers of Thor. Týr, I believe, is the god of hunt, Vidar is the god of war, and Hodur is the god of darkness because he was born blind

"Gypsy" is the name often given to the people of Nornheim because of their strong use and belief of magic.


	5. The Beauty

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

5: The Beauty—

She came right after the sun went down, her thin body sliding effortlessly through the small opening in the wall.

Loki watched in utter disbelief as the woman walked closer to him, bare feet slapping the rock floor. He could see a thin and pale face past waves of blonde hair. There was an odor, sweat and bitter, that followed her, like spilled ale. She stopped when she reached his side and knelt down, brown eyes flashing.

"Hello my king."

It was strange, her voice. The way her lips form words and how her tongue clicked to the top of her mouth, seemed so foreign. He had been in silence for so long, the muffled noises from outside the rock walls being the only slight sound to grace his ears. Loki adjusted his writs in his restraints as he felt his mind slowly go blank.

The woman looked down at him, eyes roaming down his bare body. She leaned her head down closer to his and raised a hand.

Loki jerked away.

"No," the woman's voice came out horse. "Don't be afraid. I am Sigyn, and I am loyal."

Loki blinked in confusion. Loyal, he thought. Loyal to who? Loyal to me?

Sigyn smiled, lips tightening. She moved her hand to a front pocket and pulled out a small grey cloth. "Oh my king," she whispered again and placed the cloth to his forehead.

The cloth was stiff, but cool. Loki felt a shiver go up his spine, the heat around him suddenly lessening.

"I've been waiting outside this cell for days. Only know have I been able to get in. There's more than one guard, you know," she paused and moved the cloth down to his neck, rubbing his skin gently.

Again, Loki's back tickled. Sigyn, he thought. What a beautiful name—

"When I was small, I was thrown in the dungeons for three days because I stole," she stopped and moved her hand up to his sore arms. "One, measly apple—that's all it took to get me ten lashes on the legs. I came out of the dungeons with a group of others. Other crooks and thieves. The Royal Family was there, you included, do you remember?"

Loki sighed deeply through his nose as his heartbeat quickened. He had gone to many Exitings as a child, the moment when an arrested citizen was released from the cells. It was never fun for him, to watch as pale bodies climbed out of the dark dungeons, to watch his brothers point and laugh at the unfortunate souls of Asgard.

Sigyn continued. "The princes all laughed at me, your brothers, but," she stopped and stared into Loki's eyes, nothing but warmth and compassion in their brown hue, "you didn't laugh. You actually looked quite sad."

She pulled away, taking the coolness of the cloth with her. Loki watched as she stood slightly and placed her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers were so cold, yet her touch set fire under his skin. She leaned down and gently placed her lips to his, not minding the string, the blood.

He stared at her close face, at her long eyelashes that curled in front of her closed eyes. So beautiful, he thought.

Sigyn pulled her lips away but kept her hands tight to his face. Loki stared at her, his retched heart sitting heavily in his chest as she blinked down at him. Her eyes were wet as she breathed, "That day—I fell in love with you."

Then there was a moment where she leaned forward and he sat up, and their lips brushed again, and a line of heat rushed from his chest to his legs. There is no more pain, Loki thought.

Only Sigyn.

Sigyn pulled away abruptly as the sound of footsteps came from behind the cave's door. Her eyes grew wide as she looked around and stood. "They will pay for this," she said, as she pulled her clothing tightly around her waist. "They will pay for this hell they forced on you. I'll make them."

Loki watched, alarmed, as she reached above his head and started grabbing at his hand. He heard her spit on the chain around his hand, wiping the wet drops between the metal and his skin. She grunted and with a painful pull, his hand suddenly seemed lighter. His left arm drooped and to his surprise fell down next to his side. He lifted his arm and flexed his fingers, their stiff knuckles popping and aching. Loki looked back to Sigyn as she climbed up the rock wall and wiggled through the small opening there.

She made it out, pulling her feet out on the cave quickly, then turned and called to him. "I will come back, my king." And with that, she was gone.

Loki stared at the opening before twisting his head over to the door. He laid his arm back up over his head as Baldr stuck his head into the room. The god looked around the cave before huffing and shutting the door.

With a sigh, Loki dropped his arm again and brought his hand up to his face. And deep red line wrapped around his pale wrist. He grimaced as a trickle of blood ran down his arm. He stayed, staring at his limb, till he raised it back up to his tied one. He stated to pick at the chain, twisting the metal circle back and forth over his scared skin.

I'll get out, he thought. For you, Sigyn.

* * *

Had to sneak Sigyn in here somewhere and I finally did~

Sorry for the wait everyone :[ Not _**too **_good at writing lovey dovey scenes TT^TT but, here you are, chapter 5! Reviews are lovely and thank you for reading!


	6. The Brother

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

6: The Brother—

He stood in a corridor of white tile, bare of clothing, bare of chains. It was cold there. He felt like an icy hand was slowly stroking his body, freezing him inside out.

Stiffly, Loki raised his arm and wiped his fingertips along his lips. No holes. No marks from that pit the world through him in. he then noticed that his entire body was completely unblemished. His pale skin was clear of scars and bruises.

His skin rose as the tiles suddenly flashed, bright light blinding his vision. He stumbled forward, disoriented, and tripped, crashing to his knees. The cold tightened around his neck and chest, stopping the air he struggled to breath from reaching his lungs. The light flashed again this time sending a retched pain through his head. Loki held up his hands to spare his eyes.

What part of Hel have I fallen to, he screamed in his head. His voice was seemed so distant as it rattled his skull.

Loki blinked then dropped his hands. The white tiles were gone leaving only a stifling glow where they once were. He sat up from his feeble position and wiped his face.

He was so shaken, so scared.

"Loki."

His name made his blood curdle. He twisted his head over his shoulders, looking here, there, for the source of the voice—the slick, hissing voice.

"_Loki_."

"I am Loki," Loki answered. "I am Loki."

He flinched as small black vines suddenly crawled up his arms, their tiny thorns stabbing his soft skin, drawing blood, drawing red from white. Loki screamed. He tried to pick the plants off but only pricked his fingers.

"_Loki_," the voice echoed through the room.

"Yes!" he screamed again. "I am Loki! I am Loki!" He sobbed as the vines soon reached his neck and chin. "I am Loki!"

He heard his name one last time before the vines burrowed their way into his ears, over his eyes, and down his throat.

"_Loki_—"

—

He jolted awake, eyes wide, lips pulling tightly against thread. Sweat covered his entire body. He looked around. He was back, in his cave, his prison. Back under the acid rain, mouth tied, body scared. A dream, he thought. He sighed in relief, his chest caving in then puffing out.

It was all a dream.

"Loki."

Loki shivered. He stared up to the slope of the cave and gawked at the body standing there, at the other face who stared back in the same awe as he did.

Brother?

And it was the high god, standing in the glow from the outside light. Loki watched as Thor gestured and the door behind him shut. He stepped down the slope, head held just so that his golden hair fluttered out past his shoulders. He was like a spark in an unlit tomb, a fire whose blue eyes pierced the very air.

Loki moved slightly, placing his free hand close to his other, hiding his small freedom from view. He did not want Thor here. He did not want him to see him, like this, scared and broken. But then again, he did want him here, so he could see. See the mess he'd made of him.

Thor stopped when he reached the rock, large chest moving in silence and he stared down at the other. He blinked and wiped a finger over his lips. "Loki…"

His whispered voice pressed down on Loki's chest, as if suffocating him. He glared and growled through his tight lips as Thor went down on a knee. Loki stared back at the blue gaze that studied him. Those eyes, he thought. Those sentimental eyes. I want to burn them.

Thor looked down at Loki's chest, brow furrowing at the blood stained and rotted skin. He shook his head and stuck out his jaw. "This…is not what was wanted. This…" he stopped and touched a hand to Loki's small neck.

Loki growled deeply, like an animal, and jerked away. He kicked and spat through his tight lips, but his brother stayed, with his fingers touching over the vein that carried his heartbeat.

And again Loki heard it. Two hearts beating as one.

"It took me many nights, to gain the courage to come here," Thor's voice came out deep as he pulled his hand away.

Loki turned his face and scoffed. Spineless fool, he thought. You're pathetic. To think I cared weather you came or not. His hand itched to lash out and hit the god, break him down till he was as small and as broken as he was.

"I'm so sorry. Brother, forgive me—please. You don't deserve this punishment, this awful pain." Loki could feel Thor's gaze digging into him, pulling him inside out and back again. He kept his face turned.

"Loki. Look at me," the voice above him whispered so softly.

Loki grimaced, raising his lip just so that the dried blood caked on the string cracked, new blood taking its place. Still he would not look.

The room stayed silent, the cave's dark rocks glinting from the small sunlight they were given. Loki counted his breaths, counted the times his eyes shut and then reopened. He was waiting so avidly for the time where the other would stand and leave him. Leave him and never come again. He did not _feel_ anymore, yet the fire behind his eyes killed him.

Loki flinched as a large hand grabbed his chin and held it forward. Thor's face was close then, so close he could smell the slight stench of alcohol and sweat. He stared into the blue that covered him. Like the sky—the sky he'd forgotten.

He jerked back as another hand came and grabbed the string with two fingers. He kicked as Thor stood and hunched over him, the shadows turning him into a black beast. His fingers pulled the string sending blinding pain throughout Loki's head.

Tears finally rolled down his cheeks. Blood gushed from his lips when a tug ripped the knotted end of the string from his pink skin. His free hands clenched and his legs shook. He could feel a sharp burn slide through his lips then nothing but a numb emptiness.

He stared in shock at the bloody string Thor held in his hand. He swallowed before his lips quivered and then slowly open. Air rushed into his chest as Loki gasped. He sputtered, lips bleeding from the open holes.

He tasted the iron as it dripped down his teeth and tongue. The smell of a rotten mouth burned his nose, the retched stench growing as he kept his mouth wide.

I am free of silence, he thought.

Thor watched as Loki darted a dried tongue over his ruined skin. His hand around the small neck squeezed gently then released. "How I've missed your voice," he said. Loki's eyes darted at him, crazed. "Use those venomous words to tell me you hate me. Yell at me."

Loki blinked till his eyes blurred over. He sobbed and shook as his brother raised a hand and wiped a shaking thumb over his lips.

"Speak to me brother," Thor whispered. "Speak."

Inside him, heat rose. Past his bones and skin, boiling him. "You tell me to speak?" His voice came out broken and small.

You ask me to speak?

With a yell Loki brought down his freed hand. His jagged and crooked nails ripped through the skin of Thor's eye in a flurry. The god jerked back and held his face in shock as Loki screamed.

"I've been yelling from this hell, yet you paid no mind!" Loki flung his arm again. "You ask me to speak when my throat is numb from the dread that I have been screaming! You wretched fool! I will kill you!"

He watched as Thor stumbled past his bloodied eye. Fury covered his face. He caught Loki's arm and bent it back sharply, slamming his hand into the rock. Loki spat blood and yelled louder. "You've yet to visit Hel, but I'll take you! I'll take you when I die and there we'll burn together, as brothers and devils!"

He laughed, choking from the spasm in his chest. Above him, Thor yelled and pushed Loki's hand back through the chains, snapping his wrist. Loki yelled till his throat turned raw then continued to laugh. "You brute! You're just like me! You kill the things you touch—just like me!"

"Enough with you!" Thor's voice boomed like thunder. He wiped blood from his eye, uncovering the gash lining his bottom lid. He reached forward and pulled the red sheet off Loki's thin legs. "Hel will take you, brother. Not now, but soon. And you will travel their exposed. Just as you were born," Thor said. "Born from Hel."

More blood dripped from his eye, joining sweat and tears. Loki's laugh died down, to a whimper as he watched Thor turn and start to leave. Thor continued to walk till he reached the door, wrenching it open. He left, face red.

Loki's bent smile fell, replaced with one of pain and grief. "Yet we're brothers," he whispered. "So that means you too were born from Hel."

* * *

Sorry for the **_very long _**wait:( but here's chapter six. Thor comes to see his little brother. Lots of blood, lots of drama... Thank you all for reading and comments are, of course, welcome!


	7. The Voice

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

7: The Voice—

His wrist had swollen to a mass of bruised skin and knotted tendons. The break in its bone caused his skin to turn a shade of red and purple. It ached and pulsed under the tight chain, throbbing stronger than his weakened heart.

Loki blinked slowly. He had not slept for nights, the pain under his skin causing relentless agony. His muscles were sore and his eyes blurred over as he moved his head. He stared down at the thin light that fell over his stomach, illuminating the gashes and burns that moved across him like snakes as he breathed. His skin felt dry and frozen.

Winter had taken Asgard. The cave's heat had vanished, leaving only cold rock and icy darkness. Snow had already begun to fell, the white flakes floating in through openings and piling on the stone floor—their bodies like those of ghosts.

Loki's breath travelled through the air in clouds. Rubbing his legs, he tried desperately to create heat to awake his numb limbs. He listened to the soft, distant sound of the kingdom outside his cell—the clamor of White Sun festival, the laughter of children, the cackles of women and men alike.

What joy apposed form his torment.

"_Loki_—"

Loki's heart stilled. The voice, he thought. His head spun. The voice from the dream.

"_Loki,_" the voice whispered in his ear, like a hiss, slick and dark. He felt his chest shook as his thoughts twisted like a vine. The vocal sound lingered, so close to the god that he believed he could touch it. Become _it_.

It was then that he realized he was not frightened. He was enthralled. He could feel his pupils explode as the voice kept calling, kept beckoning. His heart raced as he opened his mouth and finally, finally spoke:

"_Loki—_"

"Here I am." Loki's voice came out hoarse.

His voice hovered in the air like a weight. Loki stayed still, ears pricked, and eyes gazing up to the cave's roof as if to find this entity. The sound of his heartbeat shook the walls before a response came, the voice taking his veins and turning his blood into ice.

"_Listen, God of Mischief, for I will tell you my plan._"

Loki furrowed his brow and wriggled in his chains, pain shooting through him unnoticed. He swallowed and breathed, "Who speaks to me?"

"_You know I._"

"I do?"

"_Yes,_"the voice echoed deeply, in and around the rock prison. "_I am the one who beset Yggdrasilho_—_who caused the ancestors to cry and plead. I am the one who the Allfather cast down into the dark world. I am the one that moves above the mortal's heads_—_unseen, trapped in the dead light of Midgard._"

Loki felt the cold air around his neck tighten. He remembered the stories and songs, the legend. He remembered the black stone carving that hung above the entrance of the main hall: a giant snake with horns like swords and eyes of red jewels, its body coiled around the Father-Tree. He remembered the many nights he spent as a child, sitting under the great artwork, staring, wondering.

Jörmungandr, the Serpent, the Beast of all history.

Loki shook with elation. "Why come to me?"

There was a pause. "_I need you to blacken the light_," Loki felt his neck twitch as he scowled. He moved under the silence, breath hitching as the voice dropped down to his left ear—"_Send the realms into darkness and set me free._"

Loki felt his skin rise. More heat clouded out from his lips, sharp chin shaking. "The light? What—light?"

A sound slid past his ears like a cold wind. "_The son of all light._"

His eyes grew dark as the image of the Asgard sun rose in his mind. How many times had the desire to end the life of bright-son covered his retched heart? Loki smiled, "Yes—but how?"

The mass coiled above the chained deity, its unseen skin scratching along an unseen floor. "_I will guide you—God of Evil. I will bequeath my wonders upon you and then_—" it began to leave, the immense pressure in the air following, dropping Loki back into the stillness of his cave, "—_you will blacken the light_."

Loki gazed in veneration, his face enlightened by the shine from his eyes. "Yes..." he called. The voice left with his name on his tongue, whispering, promising a vengeance. He shook in his chains, trying to reach out to the skies where his disciple spoke. "Yes!"

"Oi!"

Loki snapped his head back, eyes wide as he studied the figure in his doorway.

Baldr stood with his hand clasped around the golden sword at his hip. His shaped eyes glowed dimly in the back-light of the snow covered earth behind him. "Who do you speak with in there?" he called down the slope, voice loathing and spiteful.

The air between them staled. Loki's smile had grown to a mere leer. "There is but only me here—dear brother."

Baldr sniffed then spat near his boot. "Daft vagrant, you've finally gone mad."

"Wasn't I always?" Loki mouthed.

Baldr frowned and spat again. He turned his face back to the cold, the movement of his body causing the outside winds to flow in, freezing. The door slammed shut with an echo like thunder.

Loki dropped his head back to the rock, his eyes shutting, drowning out the irritating light of the cave. He felt the pressure roam over his head once more, watching him. He laughed in the darkness, his heartbeat throbbing in his chest, the voice whispering in his ears.

* * *

Chapter 7! Sorry about the wait :( I hope you can all guess who "the voice" is, if not google that strange Norwegian name and find out! I _will_ say things are going to get better for Loki in the next chapters. Thank you very much for reading and reviews are most welcome.


	8. The Secret and the Blind Man

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

8: The Secret and the Blind Man—

_"The Queen has spoken."_

Loki opened his eyes as the voice spoke, awakening from his muddy sleep. He moved his back against the rock and breathed. His writs had begun to mend itself, healing bent and twisted like a cripple's. A dry tongue wiped across his scared lips. "What had she to say?"

A hidden shadow slithered overhead quietly. "_Look to the walls, young god. I have bared you a gift—_"

Loki turned his head, letting it fall to his cold shoulder. There by the side wall of the cave was a slender stake. Its white wood gleamed in dim light, glinting. Loki furrowed his brow and breathed, "Mistletoe?"

The voice hissed. "_She whispered to her maidens loudly, young god. She spoke of his weakness today._" The air hummed with life as the voice moved once more. "_Mistletoe will fare, yet I filled it with my poisons._" Loki blinked and strained his eyes to look closer at the stake. Beneath its surface was green smoke that swirled slowly over and under each of its thin wisps.

Loki smirked. A plant, he thought, can kill the Sun? He laughed, "A stake of mere kindling? That is the secret Frigga has consigned between her whores?" He laughed again.

"_The day you are free will be the day you place that in his chest_," the voice said. "_And that day will be my delivery and the end of times beginning._"

"Yes," a squirming smile pushed its way onto Loki's lips. "And we will take the 9 realms and burn the ones that do not bow before us—"

"_Silence._" The voice shook the room sending Loki's head deep into his shoulders. The air remained silent. "_Princes have come._"

Loki stared at the cave's door, heart beating methodically. Unblinking he watched as the space opened and the door held two men. Bladr stood there, his tanned hand resting on the large shoulder of the other body next to him. "Hello, gypsy."

Baldr's melodic voice ran down the slope of the cave and into Loki's ears like needles. He sneered. "Hello, brother." He stared at the other man with a trace of humor. "And brother."

"I ain't ya brother," Hodur, the third son, coughed into his large fist and wiped at his pale, dead eyes.

From memory, Loki remembered a boy, years his age, shy and scared of the world that he could not see. Loki was told by many that the All-Father had not blessed the boy when he was born quick enough, therefore he lost his sight. The day of Hodur's Naming, his right of passage, he was given the name God of Darkness; such a slight towards the poor blind-man.

"You talkin' to the voices in your head then?" Baldr asked, leaning away from Hodur, leaving him frozen in his spot.

"They're such a comfort to me," Loki sighed.

He smirked as Bladr shot an unnoticed look over his shoulder to Hodur. "You're psychotic." He walked backwards, brushing against the other god. "He is to watch you for the day," he said pointing to Hodur.

"An easy watch to slip by, don't you think?" Loki laughed as Hodur growled angrily.

"You, keep your mouth shut." Bladr sneered down at Loki before patting Hodur's shoulder and whispering, "You'll be fine." He left the two and walked far away from the cave.

Hodur stood still for a few more beats before taking a cautious step onto the slope downwards. Loki watched with slight interest as the blind-man edged down into the cave. "_Break him—_" Loki blinked as the voice whispered in his ear. "_He is weak. Break him_—"

"You damn bastard," Hodur's voice came out rough. He rubbed his knuckles on his bristled chin, his white, glossy eyes skimming over nothing. "You ruined everythin'. Be glad I can't see or I would kill ya right here." His large chest fell as he frowned deeply.

Loki sucked on his top lips, running his tongue over the small sealed holes in the soft skin. "Yes, if you _could_ see I would be in a truly horrible bind."

Hodur stared at the air, his face covered in rage. "I can find where ya lay just by the sound of ya breath, gypsy. I don't need eyes. I could kill ya in any darkness."

"Then please do." Loki arched his back as a bead of cold sweat traced down his spine. "I'd love for some decent sleep."

A breeze of winter air through the cracked wall made Hodur tug on his coats. "Ya know, I can see colors. Not shapes or details or nothin'. But colors, I can see 'em," he said, voice muffled and slurred behind his tight lips. He tipped his head up then down, swaying it side to side. "I can see red hanging over here," he said, pointing towards Loki—towards his scars. "I can see grey, and blue. I can see green."

Loki's eyes flickered to the stake leaning close to the wall. Its poison glinted at him.

Hodur sniffed and walked backwards, the tip of a hanging rock brushing his shoulder as he did. He flinched then stood still. "Ya, know, I always knew ya were different than the rest of us."

Loki stared across the cell at the larger man. He felt a twinge of anger but then a strange feeling of hilarity. He didn't care about "the unspoken difference" any more. He hadn't for a long time. "How clever of you Hodur. What gave it away? Did I reek of jötunn? Or was the difference in my voice? The 'color' around my head maybe?"

"Shut up!" Hodur yelled and grabbed the small sword at his hips. Its handle was still smooth, for it was rarely used. "Ya mock me, but I am the bigger man!" he said, pointing the tip of his sword straight out from his chest. The rims of his eyes gleamed. Tears drowned his pale white eyes.

"Ya think it's some joke that I can't see? Ya think that I'm weak just cus my _eyes_ aren't the same as yours, heh?" Hodur cried silently and dropped his sword. "I'm strong. I was as strong as Týr when we was little, don't ya doubt that."

Loki eyed the other with a murky look. "You are strong. Stronger than me, I presume. And smart too." Hodur looked up. "Very smart. Smart enough to know when a good deal comes your way," Loki finished.

"What ya edgin' at?" Hodur growled. He let his arm go limp to his side, sword still clutched tight.

"You know I—dabbled in magic," Loki said with a steady pause as Hodur's eyes narrowed.

"Ya mean black magic."

"You may called it as you like but the fact of the matter is that I have strengths that you don't." Loki adjusted his legs, rubbing his sore thighs together. His skin chafed. "I have unique powers." Hodur sniffed and pricked his ears, listening. "I could easily, give you want you want. With a snap of my fingers, your eyes would brand new."

Hodur's foggy eyes widened. "Ya'd give me my sight?"

"Yes," Loki raised his head and smiled, his rotting teeth gleaming under the cave's light. "You'd blink and the world would be there, spinning for you. You would be just like your brothers."

Hodur nodded his head, chest out as his heart swelled. "Ya'd fix me?"

"Ah—yes," Loki said. He slipped a tongue out over his broken lips before saying, "You do one thing for me, and I guarantee your eyes will be mended by the strongest of magic."

Hodur nodded again and again. "Wha-what 'one thing'?" he said.

Loki rolled his wrist, its swollen and bent form shaking violently. "You let me free. Release me from this filthy pit." He laid back on the rock and sighed. "That is all I ask."

"I…" Hodur stared forward, glossy eyes transfixed on a distant spot in the air. "I can't. I can't…" he stopped. He blinked down at the ground before gritting his teeth. "I can't and ya know I can't!" he yelled. "Ya think ya'll pull me into ya tricks, ya devil? I know ya. I know ya. Ya a liar!"

Loki watched as the older man twisted on his heels and took shaky steps back up the slope. He reached the top and screamed down into the cave. "Ya'll stay in hear, ya bloodied bastard, and rot! No one can save me," he cried, "and no one will save ya!"

Hodur stepped out of the cave and slid the door shut with an echoing slam. Loki stared at the closed exit then shut his eyes. _"He will return,"_ the voice said to him, hissing and sliding across him.

Loki nodded. "When?"

"_Soon. So soon."_

Loki opened his eyes and smiled. He felt at peace. At peace with pain—with himself. He looked up to see a single green drop build at the tip of the rock that hung over his heart. It slid through the air like a whisper and landed on his skin with a searing hiss.

He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't of looked up.

* * *

Sorry for the very, very long wait :( school has been tearing me apart! Luckily I get a break for a bit. So here's chapter 8. Thank you for reading and comments are wholeheartedly welcomed!


	9. The Naming

The characters in this story do **NOT** belong to me. All rights reserved.

9: The Naming—

He walked behind the guards at a steady pace. The large sealed door of the armory greeted them as they turned to the side hall. A stationed guard bowed stiffly before opening the door and ushering Loki in.

Loki paused to take in the great assemblage of weapons. Swords and tinted blades hung near rows of axes and shields. Helmets sat on top shelves while hammered metal cheat guards leaned against the under-wall. Loki glanced up at the high rafters. Each beam held carvings of soldiers in battle, gouging and killing beast and men alike.

"Pick wisely, young highness," the older guard grunted and wiped at his thin lips.

"Aye," Loki said slowly, his eyes drifting over the large picking. His brow furrowed at the tools. His accustoms laid in spear wielding, for he knew he could not hold a traditional sword or shield.

He was too weak.

In the back of the room sat a pile of long spikes, all tipped with silver prongs. Loki stepped closer to the weapons and leaned down, stretching his arm till his fingers plucked the nearest spear off the floor. He pulled it up close to his chest and studied it. With a nod, he turned back to the guards.

"You pick that?" a guard laughed. Loki gave him a dark look. He coughed then and adjusted his belt. "Shall I suggest a sword or axe, young prince?"

Loki gripped the spear and grimaced. "No."

The guard bowed then and turned them back down the hall. "You will stay here, till the All-Father gives word," the guard said as they neared yet another room. He pried open the large wooden door and let Loki slip in. He studied the room with distaste.

The walls were made of a thinner lining of brick, which held no stance against the hot Asgardian summer. Narrow tapestries and hanging candles covered three sides of the room leaving one wall open for a mural of faceless warriors.

Loki furrowed his brow. The room seemed to consume him as he walked further in. He turned towards the awaiting guards and nodded. "Be gone."

The guards left, shutting the door behind them, and Loki sat down on a small mat-covered seat. He glanced from ceiling to floor before sighing heavily. Since dawn his gut had been tight. He feared this day—dreaded it.

The Naming was a sacred ceremony where an Odin-Son would trek out into Jötunheim where he would find and slay a beast with a weapon of his choosing. This event was held on the son's fifteenth year. It was a birth right, an entrance into manhood.

It was a duty.

And it was considered a dishonor to the kingdom if one did not succeed in this. You came back with the head of your kill, or you do not come back at all. That's what he was told.

Loki rubbed his palm across his forehead. Yet how could I, Loki thought, slay a beast? He looked down at his bare, pale arms and his boney hands.

How could these hands kill a monster?

He rested his chin on the blunt end of his spear, rubbing the splintering tip left to right below his jaw, twisting the sharp blade into the wooden floor. The air was stale there and his lungs felt weighted. The room creaked as the hot summer air pushed down on its walls. Outside, the sun engulfed the kingdom like a wave.

Loki breathed deeply. He dropped his spear down to the side and lifted it up to his lap. It lay still, wooden, lifeless. Its body was lined with slits and scars, damage not caused by war or use but by wasted time. The guards were right to laugh—a spear? A blade on a pole? It made him laugh too.

He lifted his head as the door again opened. The older guard stood there. "I am here to take you now, young prince."

Loki blinked then shook his head. "Ah, yes…" He stood and let his spear hit the floor.

The guard walked him out into the hallway before closing the door. He turned to Loki and gestured for him to walk, "If you may."

With a frown, Loki walked ahead, a tight grip on the spear he held to his side. They entered the main foyer of the palace's wing which lead to a hall of statues and murals. Loki studied the tall stoned faces as he past, each one towering and emotionless. He paused when he came to the figure of a young Odin. He stood with sword in hand and the head of a winter-cat on his belt. "Does my father wait for me?" he asked.

The guard continued to walk without looking back. "Not your father," he said. Loki felt a stir of sadness and disappointment bloom in his chest. "Your brother however..."

—

From the bridge, Loki could see two figures standing at the entrance of the Bifröst. The guard had rightfully guessed the attendants of his departure—Heimdall, the gatekeeper, the all-seer stood with his large hands rested on his sword's handle, its leather strap wrapped around his thick wrist as if a snake. And Thor, the fifth son of Odin, a man of only sixteen years, who's Naming had surpassed all in history only nine months before.

"Brother!" Thor called waving an arm. He ran towards Loki, a smile spread on his face. He came to a stop as the two met halfway and raised an eyebrow. "You picked a spear?"

Loki felt his shoulders sag as he looked down at the pathetic weapon in his hands. He stood silently, his tongue caught by embarrassment and shame.

"Well no mind," Thor said, breaking the silence and gripping Loki by the shoulder, "Can you believe that only a year before I stood in the exact spot you did? Do you remember how nervous I was? But then, I walked out into Jötunheim and slayed the first beast I saw and brought its head back to father!"

Loki looked down at the bulky shape their two shadows made on the floor. "To kill a beast—I must say, I haven't the slightest idea," he said.

Thor's face did not change. "Why, you have your…" Thor picked up the arm Loki held his spear in. He frowned. "…spear—All you need now in the moment where the bloody thing raises its head so you may drive it into its skull! Yes, when I faced that damned mountain boar, I held out my arm and swung it around its neck and held till it choked—!"

Loki allowed his eyes to drift as the older rambled on. He glanced down into the void that the bridge held them from, the deep pocket of space and stars. Sometimes he would wonder why no one ever brought up the notion that there was life beyond the seven realms. Loki sighed and glanced back only to still.

Past his brother's shoulder, Loki could see Heimdall, still standing broadly against the Bifröst. His yellow eyes peered at Loki past his pointed helmet. Loki felt his stomach tighten. For as long as he could remember, he and the gatekeeper always held a sturdy hate for one another. He remembered as a child, on the day of his first hunt, the gatekeeper had allowed his five brothers through to the forests yet made him stay behind until he had gotten permission from his _mother_.

How demeaning of a day. And there was no dispute towards Loki's hatred for the man. He detested him with a passion.

"—Loki."

Loki blinked and turned his attention back to his brother. A pair of bright blue eyes stared down at him. "_Hva?_" he said, adjusting his feet in discomfort.

Thor smiled softly before wrapping his arms around his brother.

Loki grunted as air rushed out of his lungs. He was squeezed by firm arms till his legs shook. Before pulling away, he felt a hand nudge his. Loki froze as a small, rough object has placed in his hand. Thor's fingers closed his thin hand around the item and moved his mouth close to his ear, "Be safe."

With a swallow, Loki nodded. "Alright…"

Thor pulled back then and smiled. "The Naming of my younger Loki—what a day!" He patted Loki roughly on the shoulders and began across the bridge. "I'll be off then. _Lykke til, _eh!"

Loki watched as his brother walked away, the large towers of Asgard soon hiding him behind their walls. He stared at the entrance of the kingdom before looking down at the small cone in his hand. "Pine?" he whispered.

A gruff voice called for him, "It's time to leave."

Loki's eyes narrowed. He turned to Heimdall and sniffed, "Aye." He walked over and brushed past the gatekeeper.

Inside the Bifröst, the stars were locked out by the large bronze dome. It was a bare room—the floors were polished and the ceilings were the same gold colors as the walls. A large ring of steps sat in the middle of the room centered by the tall podium. Loki stopped near the steps and watched as Heimdall climbed them. He held his mighty sword above his head before bringing down into the podium.

A spark of light filled the room and Loki felt his feet begin to slide. Wind whipped at his hair and pulled him forward. His chest tightened and for a moment the world was white. In a swift movement, he was tugged out of the room and into the dark.

* * *

Chapter 9, finally! Sorry for the _**long** _wait :( hope everyone's having a wonderful 2013 and reviews are lovely3


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